Twilight: Pain in Poetry
by Unanimously Anonymous
Summary: A collection of poems that the characters of Twilight relate to in their times of great sadness.
1. Interruption

**  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight characters.**

**Bella's POV. Set after Edward left.  
**

* * *

-Interruption-

I rushed into my room. I could feel the tears threatening to overwhelm me. To claim my forsaken body in sadness. Charlie had spoken of _him_. I didn't know what'd he said, probably telling me to get over it, but I couldn't hear anything after the pain of hearing _his_ name took over.

I threw myself onto my bed, writhing in pain as the hole in my chest opened up. I screamed. I screamed until my hoarse voice gave out. I was waiting, waiting for the pain to recede to the back of my mind and for the numbness to take over. It was slow coming. It started in my fingers and toes and eventually worked its way up to the gaping hollow where my heart had been and from there, to my head, pushing back my thoughts, leaving me empty.

This was how I normally passed my time, in numb, empty, nothingness, for the day at least. At night I could never keep from being reminded that _he_ should be next to me, holding me in _his_ protective embrace…

That's why I was surprised when my emptiness was interrupted by words. They were words about _him_ and me. They flowed in stanzas. The words were a poem. I'm not really a poetic person, especially since poems reminded me of songs and music, which reminded me of _him_, but the words rhymed, they made sense, and they kept coming. They also didn't hurt too much and after I got through the first few stanzas, I even felt a little better. I decided to write them down.

_You and me  
__were meant to be  
__together  
__ever-lasting  
__in this love forever  
__never thinking it would ever stop_

_But then you turned your back  
__and you left me  
__What the hell  
__was that supposed to mean  
__I don't see  
__where you and me went wrong_

_Now you see  
__I'm all alone  
__and left confused  
__my heart is broken  
__never to be glued  
__and all of this was caused because of you_

_A hole is ripped through my chest  
__every time I hear  
__any mention of your name  
__and now it's clear  
__I'm not ever  
__getting over this_

_I cry  
__I scream  
__I feel nothing  
__I don't know what's happening  
__but I know  
__it won't ever go away_

_You loved me  
__and I loved you  
__I always know  
__that much is still true  
__But that doesn't  
__tell me why you left_

_Now you're gone  
__never to come back  
__The realization  
__hits me like a smack  
__And I can tell  
__hoping is futile_

_This is it. I'm done.  
__I'm giving up  
__There's too much pain  
__I've finally had enough  
__Without you  
__my life just isn't worth it_

_I'd say goodbye  
__if there were someone left to tell  
__but they all left  
__when they learned I wasn't well  
__stuck in  
__my own depressing world_

_But today is the day  
__I take my leave  
__No longer your absence  
__will I grieve  
__I'm heading  
__for…  
_

The words had finally stopped and I didn't know what I was heading for. I knew the poem had taken a suicidal turn, but I didn't want to commit suicide, that would be too selfish. But I was allowed to be overly dramatic in poetry, wasn't I? So how could I say heading for death, without making it sounds as plain and stupid as that? _For my numbing escape? _No, that sounded like drugs. _For…eternal sleep? _That just sounded stupid and, from what I got out of sleep, it wasn't exactly something that I wanted to go through forever. I wanted to escape the pain forever. I just wanted it to go away. I didn't want to scream anymore. I wanted quiet. I wanted, wanted…peace. That's what I wanted, peace, forever. _I'm heading for eternal peace._ That didn't sound too bad, not bad at all actually. I liked eternal and peace was the best way to describe what I wanted, so it fit really well…_eternal peace. _

_But today is the day  
__I take my leave  
__No longer your absence  
__will I grieve  
__I'm heading  
__for eternal peace_

I tore the paper out of my notebook and took it with me to bed. I read it until I fell into a restless sleep. I tossed and turned and twisted in pain so much that I had lost the poem amongst my sheets.

My eyes blinked open at the first sign of light, tired and heavy after a night of more screaming than sleeping. I just stared at the ceiling, waiting for the numbness to come. It came, it always does eventually. _Human_ bodies always have a way of coping. After I willed myself to get up, I managed to swing my legs over the edge of my bed and stand up. When I stood up, something fell to the floor. It was a piece of paper. After I read the first stanza, memories came bursting through my shield and the pain came washing over me, bringing me to my knees and pulling a scream from my lips. I couldn't bear to look at it. I couldn't stand for it to _exist._ Through my eyes, blurred with tears, I ripped the paper. I tore and clawed and shredded it into a hundred pieces. I gathered them up and threw them in the trash, too sick to even look at the remnants. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and tried to rid myself of even the memory of the words. I stood there for a long time, letting the water and the numbness flow over me.

I walked back into my room, completely numb, and I noticed that I had missed one scrap of paper. I picked it up and was about to dispose of it when I read the words on it: _eternal peace._ If I couldn't have eternal peace then neither would that poem. I crumpled up the words and threw them in a drawer in my desk. Not letting my numbness be broken, I smirked at the coincidence that I should find those words. That they really were something I could never obtain.

The thought struck me later, that I had never named the poem. It seemed fittingly ironic that I should name the piece that was gone by its surviving words. Like reminding it of what it had been, but could now never be.

* * *

**Poetry is really my thing, but this is the first time I've put any on here. I'm rather fond of this one, but I'd love to know what you think. Is this believable for Bella?**


	2. Ticking

**Set before Bella turned 18. **

**Bella's POV. I hope you enjoy :). **

* * *

-Ticking-

Every second I grow that much older than Edward. Each and every second. I must have surpassed him by at least a billion by now. He doesn't know what it's like to be counting days. How could he when he's frozen at 17 forever. The perfect number…because it belongs to the perfect guy. Well, almost perfect.

My 18th birthday is coming up and Edward still won't agree to change me. He says that I have to marry him first. He wants to be sure that I'm committed to him for life before takes away my other options. He doesn't understand, there _are_ no other options. I've told him a million times that I'll never want to be with anyone but him. His response is always that I should have no problem marrying him then. But he doesn't get it. I've been taught to hate marriage all of my life. How can he expect me to suddenly go back on years of superstition?

As if our fighting about it wasn't bad enough, now I was having nightmares. Every time I would wake up in the night, Edward was always there whispering soothing words of how he'd never leave. '_But I might, if you consider dying of old age leaving.' _was what I always found myself thinking.

One night I was having a particularly odd dream, or nightmare rather. It was about growing old of course. I couldn't possibly dream of anything else. The strange part about it though was that it was flashes of scenes narrated by a poem. I felt sick and scared at the will of the voice. It said:

_The sound of a ticking clock._  
_On and on it goes,_  
_never ceasing,_  
_never changing._

I was surrounded by a hundred images of clocks. They were all counting off the time at an alarming rate. The hours were spinning around at the rate of seconds. And I started to hear the _tick-tock, tick-tock_, of an analogue clock. It was nauseating.

_It's enough to drive you mad._  
_That thing hanging on the wall,_  
_an unblinking face_  
_staring at you._

It was driving me mad. Then suddenly one of the clocks that had been swirling around me stopped and all of the others faded away. It was a familiar clock one that I'd seen before. As the rest of the clocks faded a wall began to form around the one remaining. Then it started to grow bigger and bigger and the ticking sound was becoming louder and louder. _tick-tock, TICK-TOCK!_

_You plug your ears,_  
_turn your back,_  
_but you can still hear the ticking._

I had thrown my hands over my ears as the clock had gotten louder and I had turned away from the anticipated impact of the clock that was rushing at me. A chill ran up my spine at how in control of me the voice was. I could still hear the ticking no matter how hard I pressed my hands into my ears. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_You hasten from room to room,_  
_shutting all doors in your path,_  
_but still, the ticking is present._

I appeared in a room and began blindly sprinting through doors, shutting them behind me. I didn't care where I went as long as there was as much distance as possible between that clock and myself. I was also trying to make as convoluted of a path as possible in the hopes the ticking couldn't follow me. But, of course, like the voice said, it was still there ringing in my ears. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_You wrap it in a thousand cloths,_  
_and bury it six feet underground,_  
_but the ticking is unyielding,_  
_ever present in your ears._

Right when I thought that the clock would at last overwhelm me, I ran into a dead end room and slammed the door. I was bracing myself for the impact of the clock, but none came. I peeked back out the door and the clock was gone, ticking too. Then I turned around and saw the familiar clock on the wall right across from me and the ticking started again. I went to rip it off the wall. Then I was plunged into a six-foot hole, holding a mass of cloth that was ticking. I threw it into the hole and began piling dirt on top of it. But the ticking didn't get any quieter. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_No matter what you do_  
_the ticking follows you,_  
_always marking every second._

I was standing in some sort of tool shop. I ran to the wall and picked up a hammer and began smashing the clock to pieces, or trying. I didn't even make a scratch. I moved on to a saw, throwing it, running it over with my truck. Nothing worked! Through everything that I tried I could still hear it. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_Reminding you of the ones you've wasted,_  
_the tens, the hundreds, the thousands,_  
_and of the ones stolen from you,_  
_the millions, the billion, the trillions._

I was sitting back in Biology waiting for Edward to come, though I hadn't seen him all day, I still had hope. There was a clock on the wall, the same familiar one that had been following me. It was ticking off the little precious time that Edward had left to come in before class started. It was going too fast and the bell rang too soon. Then the scene changed and I was lying in my bed. It was one of those nights when Edward wasn't here. I was reaching out for him and grabbing nothing but air. The clock appeared on the wall bringing its ticking with it and I began to relive every night of Edward's absence. It was too much. Surely I had to wake up soon. I could escape the ticking. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_Sometimes the ticking hides,_  
_perfectly matches your pulse,_  
_but you know it's there._  
_You can feel its voice resonating in your ear._

I woke up, my heart pounding in my ears. Edward was next to me and he asked me what was wrong. I started to tell him about the clock, when I heard to ticking noise again. I looked all around, but I couldn't see the clock. It sounded so close, almost like it was me. I turned to Edward for comfort and as I laid my head on his chest, the ticking got louder. I wrenched myself away from him. It was him! The ticking was coming from him! _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_Away they go,_  
_never to be regained._  
_perpetual memos that your pile of seconds_  
_is continuously growing smaller._

Edward became the clock, then it swallowed me up. I was falling through a hole, much like Alice, except all around me were clocks all ticking away seconds, all much too quickly. When I landed on the ground I was in some sort of a glass box, no wait, I took a second look around and noticed the reflective surfaces. It was a mirror. I was in a mirror. And on the other side I could see myself and Edward standing beside me. We both looked so happy, then I noticed that my face started to wrinkle and my hair turned gray. In just a matter of seconds I was an old women, but Edward was still the same, completely unchanged. Then I saw the clock in on the wall behind them. And the ticking came roaring through my ears like a wave over my head. _tick-tock, tick-tock._

_Each a moment of your life  
being sucked away._

I saw myself turning in my sleep and Edward sitting and watching me with an amused look on his face. It wasn't fair that I had to sleep. It wasn't fair that I had to miss spending time with him. Then I was trying to shove food into my mouth at breakfast, so that I could go outside to let him drive me to school. It was so stupid that I had eat. The ticking started again, reminding just how long it was taking me to swallow, just how many seconds that I wasn't spending with Edward. _tick-tock, tick-tock. _

_And there's nothing you can do_  
_to stop the ticking clock._

I ran out the door to join him and I was pleading in the car for him to change me, to make me immortal. The image of his head shaking and his lips saying 'no' filled all of my vision. Until all that was left was the ticking clock, surrounded by blackness.

_There's nothing anyone can do._

Then even the ticking clock was gone and I was left in the darkness. With nothing but the chill of what the voice had last said and the echo of the ticking. Then I remembered that wasn't true. The voice was lying. There _was _someone who could stop it. Edward could do it, he could stop the ticking clock. Surely he could defeat it, if he wanted to. But what if he didn't want to? …

I woke up then. Edward was next to me, but I was wary of being comforted by him, remembering my nightmare. "Bella," he said as he reached up and stroked my face. He felt real enough, so I allowed myself to collapse sobbing into his arms. I was shaking. From the sobs? Or from the fear?

When I could talk again I told him that I'd had a nightmare about a time when he was gone. I knew he didn't like to be reminded of that, but it was partly true. And I didn't want to tell him about what I had really dreamed of. He wouldn't understand. And my mind was still spinning from the last part of the dream.

It was early, but I didn't care. I couldn't sleep any more, so I went down to kitchen to have breakfast. Edward followed me because it was too early for Charlie to be up. I was just sitting down with my bowl of cereal, still shaken up from my dream, when I heard the ticking. I looked up to see a clock hanging next to the fridge. It was the same one from my dreams. I practically dropped my food in my haste over to the clock. I snatched it off the wall and ripped the batteries out. I was breathing hard. Edward looked at me with concern, but I offered him no explanation. The sound was still playing in my ears. I began eating as my mind slipped back to the end of my dream. _"There's nothing anyone can do."_ _Edward can do something_, I thought. Then I remembered pleading with him in my dream and how he had become the clock. A terrible thought struck me. What if Edward _was_ the ticking clock?

* * *

**(I know cheesy ending, but I wanted to be sure you got the metaphor :D.) I'm really proud of this poem, although I did a lot of editing to put it on here. It started out in first person and I obviously changed it to second, but I also reworded some things to help the dream along. I really like the dream that I came up with because it's a story nothing like what I was thinking when I originally wrote the poem, but I think it still flows well. **

**I don't know if this is as believable for Bella, but it is a dream and those can be pretty bizarre. I'm sorry that I haven't done a poem for anyone, but Bella. I write the story after I think of a poem and it takes a while for the right one to come along. I look forward to responding to your comments (I really do!) and answering any questions. Also you're welcome to suggest ideas for future entries. (Sorry this note is so long :(. )**


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